


The Locker Room.

by kotabear24



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Hockey Star!Louis, Locker Room, M/M, Model!Harry, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotabear24/pseuds/kotabear24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon prompt: I need something where Louis is like, a rugby player, or an ice hockey player, or whatever, and harry is his long term partner. before a game or something, harry surprises Louis in the locker room (the game he's playing is far away from where they live, and harry missed Louis so he travelled to visit or w/e) anyway, Louis ends up fucking harry against the wall of the locker room, and all his teammates knew what was going on, cause harry asked if they would stay out of the room for a while, so they kind of hide and watch them fucking. They all secretly want to fuck harry, but they would never tell Lou cause he's super possessive. afterwards, I just want a sweet little exchange between harry and Louis (something totally cheesy, like harry saying 'I’ll be rooting for you' or whatever) and then their totally smug looks when Louis' team properly comes back in and starts wolf whistling and high-fiving Louis for boning his gorgeous fiancé. Bonus points if harry is a famous model of some sort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Locker Room.

The guys on the team never talked about Harry Styles. Louis wouldn’t let them; Harry belonged to him. And Louis would never let his mates talk trash about Harry, or anything at all questionable pertaining to Harry’s reputation and honor.

Yeah. Louis was _that_ kind of boyfriend - the one who always looked out for Harry’s reputation and honor. He was also the kind of boyfriend who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a puck flying into an unguarded teammate’s mouth if that teammate so much as _looked_ at Harry the wrong way.

Don’t him wrong, Louis adored the team. Loved them like brothers. But he also knew the way some of the guys did their significant others when the team was away. Louis didn’t even want Harry _around_ those guys; he didn’t need to see the awful way his teammates acted while not under supervision.

Of course, Harry and Louis trusted each other implicitly. They had been together three years and five months now (they were often pulled apart for work and insisted on taking things slowly), and Harry was still just as smitten (and horny) as he was their first date. Louis felt the same way. So when, for their 3-year anniversary, Louis got down on one knee at a very fancy dinner and proposed to Harry, nobody was surprised-they also weren’t surprised when they heard that Harry, instead of simply answering ‘yes’, drug Louis into the bathroom and they fucked so loud they were asked to leave.

Harry was a well-paid and sought-after model, beating out names like Taylor Fuchs, Travis Fimmel and Tyson Beckford. Bruce Weber was always after Harry, claiming that Harry’s face and physique appealed to the modern-day fashion industry more than Marcus Schenkenberg ever had. Louis was one of the highest-paid shooters in international hockey, his name thrown out among legends like Bobby Orr and Gordie Howe himself.

The two were called away for work often, but rarely at the same time, and it frustrated them both that one would arrive home and it seemed like the day after, the other would get called away. Louis spent most of his time in Canada, with his team, and Harry spent most of his time in London, where the headquarters of his biggest companies were located. They spent as much time as they could, but they had agreed from the start that work would come first.

Except Harry missed Louis. Louis' team was practicing nonstop for weeks in Canada, and Harry had finally set time aside to indulge himself a bit.

\---

Louis was the team captain, so it was his job to be in the locker room first-especially when he had called the pre-game practice himself. Dressing in his gear, he was getting irate at the rest of the team for not arriving on time. It was like the team hadn’t even gotten the memo; they had completely missed the practice he’d called and were now late showing up for the game. Usually, his best mates (Liam, the goalie, Niall, the “tactics” defender, and Zayn, another shooter) would come in at least on time, but nobody was in the room with him. His irritation only grew when he stubbed his foot on the locker room door as he put on his skates. As his locker was closest to the door, he probably should have heard the door open, but he was too busy muttering insults as he sat down to lace up his skates, and stood up with them secured.

Slamming his locker shut, Louis turned around, muttering, preparing himself to find his team and give them the berating of a lifetime. His muttering caught in his throat when he saw him: his flawless fiancé, standing against Gustavsson’s locker and looking like the most tempting piece of Calvin Klein sexy to have ever existed.

But as sexy as Harry looked, Louis couldn’t have bothered to truly notice it. “ _Harry_!” He moaned. He wasn’t sure what emotion made him _moan_ \- he wasn’t some teenager to be aroused at the mention of sex - but he thought it might have been a mixture of pure adoration and relief (oh, yeah - Louis had long-since come to terms with his sappy feelings of unadulterated love and commitment to Harry; being some rough hockey player didn’t mean he was emotionless).

Louis walked swiftly up to his fiancé and swept the younger man into his arms, too happy to be irritated with the way his gear somewhat blocked his tight hug as he twirled once. Harry didn’t seem to mind either; he linked his arms tightly around Louis’ neck and held on, pressing gentle kisses to Louis’ cheek. “What are you doing here, babe?” Louis asked happily, leaving his wrists planted under Harry’s firm bum so as not to let Harry touch the ground.

“Well, I finally got the commercial/shoot for Dolce and Gabbana-” Harry said like it wasn’t a big deal, but Louis interrupted him with a huge kiss and another twirl.

“That’s fantastic, babe!-"

“And I thought I would come across the pond and see some big-shot shooter I’ve been hearing about,” Harry finished casually, a cheeky grin on his beautiful face.

Louis smiled. “Oh, really?” he asked loudly.

“Really,” Harry nodded. He took a hand off of Louis’ neck and began examining his fingernails as he muttered, “I dunno, Verekova and Aoki were saying something about this ‘Tommo’ bloke being…what did they say…Oh, I believe their words were ‘fit as holy fuck, and a damn shooter to boot’. I’m still waiting to see both, quite frankly.”

Louis pinched Harry’s bum indignantly, and Harry let out a ‘hey!’ and giggled like a school girl before leaning down to kiss him.

Louis returned the kiss gently, savoring his fiancé’s taste for the first time in weeks, until Harry deepened the kiss and pulled at the collar of Louis’ jersey to deepen it still. Louis broke the kiss, muttering, “Babe, the guys-"

“-Can’t get into the locker room if the door’s locked and I have the key,” Harry said smoothly, dangling a flash of gold metal in front of Louis’ eyes.

That was enough for Louis.

Harry’s breath was nearly knocked out of him as Louis shoved him backwards against the lockers, kissing him with enough passion to bruise Harry’s lips. Harry didn’t pull back. Instead, Harry’s legs slowly lifted up to circle Louis’ waist, and Louis shuddered as he felt Harry’s abs contract at the movement under his own roaming hands.

Louis explored Harry’s mouth with a fever like never before, and Harry let him, exploring Louis’ mouth in return, stopping for breath only to suck love bites onto Louis’ neck. Let the world know I was here, Harry thought smugly. Louis was thinking the same thing, apparently, because he was moaning under Harry’s mouth. “Need you inside me,” he moaned.

Harry was surprised - Louis was the dominant one in the relationship, and that role (about ninety percent of the time) extended into the bedroom. “Nah-ah-ah,” Harry sang, and Louis groaned and bit at Harry’s shoulder, exposed by his slipping shirt. “Don’t want your arse to be sore for the game, now, do we?”

It was no secret: they were both packing some heat. They were both sore afterwards; yet another reason Harry was okay with being the bottom: Louis didn’t need to play on a sore arse.

Louis groaned in frustration but saw the logic in his fiancé’s words. He pulled Harry off of him, but didn’t back away from the lockers - trapping Harry - and unbuckled his uniform pants, letting them bunch over the tops of his skates. Harry sank to his knees without having to be told or asked, and Louis thought he perhaps should let Harry know more often how much he loved the curly-haired model.

Harry pulled Louis’ swiftly-hardening dick out, tossing the cup aside to the floor of the room, and instantly took Louis into his mouth, coaxing Louis into full hardness. Louis let out a moan the team was sure to hear, if they were locked outside the rooms listening. Not that he cared. Harry sucked the tip with just the amount of pressure that blurred the line of pleasure and slight pain, and Louis’ hands moved into his hair. Louis was enjoying this way too much.

“Wait, Harry,” Louis breathed. “My skates.”

Harry wanted to punch the locker. He’d forgotten Louis was in his skates; any sudden movements of the player’s legs or feet could result in injury. Harry kept his mouth on Louis’ dick, lapping gently at the tip and underside, and set to work unlacing his fiancé’s skates. Louis breathed out a quick ‘thank you’ and Harry responded my grazing his bottom teeth up against the underside of Louis’ dick. Louis’ moans got louder.

Stepping out of his skates once they were unlaced enough, Louis was struggling not to thrust into Harry’s mouth. “Deeper, babe, just…” his pleas were cut off by a loud moan as Harry slid his mouth all the way in, burying his nose in Louis’ fine pubic hair. Louis’ hands went to the back of Harry’s head, keeping him there, and Harry moaned around Louis’ dick, making Louis’ hands tighten in his curls.

Harry slid off of Louis’ dick just long enough to moan, “Fuck my face, Lou,” before Louis shoved Harry’s head back toward him, holding his head still and thrusting as quick as he could. Louis looked down and saw Harry’s despicable mouth around his hard dick, and immediately closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

“Gonna, gonna come,” Louis said, moaning when Harry’s mouth left him.

His disappointment only lasted as long as it took to open his eyes. Harry was no longer against the lockers, but bent over the locker room bench, bracing himself on the polished wood with his hands. Louis growled and Harry whined, “Fuck me, Louis. Give it to me, come on.”

Louis stuck his first and middle finger into his own mouth, too impatient to let Harry do it, and slid his index slowly inside Harry. Harry’s initial gasp immediately turned into a lustful moan as he begged Louis, “Been too long…need you now…hurry up, Lou!”

Louis didn’t need any more encouragement, adding a second finger and scissoring them around, stretching Harry out with a quick pace that left Harry nearly sobbing. Adding a third finger hastily, Louis heard Harry’s gasp of pain and quickly curved his fingers into Harry’s prostate to make up for it. Louis was rewarded with a delicious moan of “More, Lou!”

Harry groaned in disapproval when Louis’ fingers disappeared but sound was lost as Louis thrust into him, cutting off his air supply as Louis slid in deep, to the hilt. Louis slid out slowly, only to snap his hips quickly back into Harry with such force that Harry nearly found himself face-planting into the wooden bench. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s chest just in time, though, and guided Harry closer to him. Harry’s hands quickly regained their hold on the bench, clenching and un-clenching at Louis’ thrusts.

Louis nudged one of Harry’s legs out further with his knee, making both men groan at the new angle of Louis’ thrusts. Harry gasped as Louis repeatedly hit his prostate and began rocking back desperately, meeting each of Louis’ thrusts with backwards ones of his own.

“Talk to me,” Harry begged, and Louis obliged.

“You filthy slut,” he spat breathlessly as he continued to pound into Harry. “Showing off how fit you are to the whole team. They all want you.” Harry gasped as a particularly hard thrust sent shivers down his spine, and one of Louis’ hands moved up to grasp gently around the front of Harry’s throat. “Gonna fuck them, too?” Louis demanded.

“No,” Harry gasped. Louis felt the vibration of Harry’s voice under his fingers and thrust deeper, encouraging a moan from Harry. “Only you,” Harry finished with a whine.

“Good,” Louis said nastily. “You belong to me, don’t you? You’re mine.” Louis added a bite to Harry’s shoulder blade through his shirt, to emphasize his point.

Harry moaned and came without warning, whining Louis’ name. “Louder,” Louis demanded.

“Louis!” Harry shouted as Louis continued thrusting through Harry’s orgasm. Louis screwed his eyes shut and basked in the sound of his fiancé’s scream, willing himself not to come until Harry was done.

Once Harry went somewhat limp, Louis let himself go, filling Harry up with his come. Harry moaned filthily at the feeling as Louis’ thrusts slowed and eventually stopped. Harry stayed where he was, arms quivering to hold himself up on the bench, as Louis pulled out, pulled up and loosely refastened his pants, and walked to the bathroom.

Returning with a handful of paper towels, Louis wiped his own come from Harry’s thighs and arse, kissing over the swell of Harry’s backside and pushing Harry’s shirt up to suck a bruise into the dimple of Harry’s back. He pulled Harry up towards him, gently kissing his way up Harry’s back until he found Harry’s neck. Harry turned around and captured Louis’ lips with his own, sharing passionate, happy kisses. Louis then hugged Harry close to his body, rubbing the younger man’s back as he tucked his face into Harry’s neck. Harry sighed happily and allowed the laziness until he read the time on the clock-ten minutes until the team had to be on the ice, warming up for the game.

He sheepishly detached himself from Louis’ embrace, kissing his lips chastely before explaining, “I told the guys I’d be locking them out; they all agreed and I promised I’d let them back in with ample time. They’ve only got ten minutes to get dressed now,” he said with a guilty-yet-unrepentant grin.

“They’ll be fine,” Louis muttered against Harry’s lips. “They’ll just be glad I’m in a good mood again. Where’s that key?” He asked. Harry gave it to him and Louis put it into the lock, but didn’t turn it. “Let’s get you dressed,” he said with a smile. Harry straightened his shirt as Louis re-buttoned Harry’s tight blue pants.

When Louis was done, he looked up to see Harry smiling at him. Smiling in response, he asked, “What?”

Harry grinned wider and replied, “The team said you’d been missing me…is that true?”

Louis blushed and ducked his head. “Well, you know…they’re just stupid guys,” he muttered.

“Well, I think it’s sweet. And for the record? I missed you, too.” Harry said as he tilted Louis’ face up. Louis reached out and turned the key absentmindedly as he pulled Harry into a sweet kiss.

Cat calls and cheers erupted as the team pushed their way through the door. Louis wrapped his arms tighter around Harry to keep him from getting trampled on in the stampede, and Louis felt quite a few manly slaps to his shoulder. Looking around in confusion, Louis met Liam’s gaze and let his face ask the question for him.

Liam blushed and said delicately, “The, erm…the locker room isn’t soundproof, Captain.”

Louis groaned and Harry laughed in embarrassment, ducking his face into Louis’ neck and shoulder. “Alright, go get dressed, you crazy lot,” he shouted at his team, most of which was still wolf whistling and such. The team dispersed to their lockers and did just that, talking amongst themselves.

Harry leaned back a bit and straightened Louis’ jersey, pulling at his collar a bit for a kiss. “I’ll be in the stands, watching you tonight,” he said with a cute little kiss. “If you score in the game, I might let you score in the hotel,” he added with a wink.

Louis smiled and kissed Harry’s cheek. “I love you, Harry Styles.”

Harry blushed in pleasure and whispered, “I love you, too, Number Twenty-Four.”

“Root for me?” Louis asked him.

Harry kissed him again. “Always do.”

Louis walked Harry out of the locker room and to his seat, next to his girlfriends (and co-workers), who were looking shocked and amazed. Louis signed a few autographs, and kissed the top of Harry’s hand before walking back to the locker room.

Upon entering, he grinned as his teammates cheered cheekily and put his hands up in the air. “Alright, alright,” he called to them loudly. “You’ve seen-and apparently, heard-your share of my relationship with my fiancé. Now, if you lot don’t mind, we have a game to win and I have a boy to impress. Let’s go!” He cried out, and the team erupted into shouts and cheers as they glided from the locker room and onto the ice. Louis looked up into the stands and saw Harry, next to Veronica Verekova and Devon Aoki, cheering wildly.

Just like he always would be.


End file.
